Of Lightning and Love Confessions
by DraconisNight130
Summary: Just your regular cliche thunderstorm story; there's a storm at night, Ron's scared, he crawls into Harry's bed and you can guess where it goes from there...WARNING: SLASH. Don't like, don't read


**DN- Hi, and welcome to my first ever fanfic, proofread by my own personal Frenchie!**

**F- Who are you calling yours, you dang Brit! *whacks DN upside the head***

**DN- Ow! Where the hell did the frying pan come from?**

**F- Watch your language! I think you're forgetting whose slave you are. Now what do we say…?**

**DN- …sorry mistress…**

**F- Better, now do the disclaimer before the readers get fed up and leave!**

**DN- Wait, people actually read this bullpoopie? *DN takes this moment to get smacked again* Anyway! I do not own any of the characters or places mentioned in this story, they are the property of J. K. Rowling, I only own the plot line… however that claim is tenuous, owing to the fact that it's one great stinking cliche…**

A storm raged heavily down on the dilapidated houses of Grimmauld Place. Rusted railings creaked in the harsh winds like fearsome banshees, while the trees in the nearby park strained under the relentless torrent. The storm was especially disturbing to the residents of Number 12, or more accurately, one specific resident.

Ronald Weasley was not one to be frightened by much…that was a lie. Ronald Weasley, despite his Griffindor traits, was very prone to being scared of trivial things, especially if those things were eight-legged and hairy. At this point in time, the thing spooking the jumpy redhead was the particularly violent storm raging just outside his window. Lightning flashed and thunder roared and young Ron did the one thing that came naturally to him: to run for Harry.

Harry Potter lay restlessly in his bed in Number 12. Ever since the end of last year, he'd been unable to sleep without his dreams being assaulted by images of That Night. Flashing red eyes and a snake-like nose, Cedric's cold, dead body, and a high cruel laugh. The only thing he'd found to keep himself going insane was the soft, slow breathing of his room's other occupant. Over the summer, indeed after the First Task, Harry had found himself growing closer and closer to his ginger best mate, and he couldn't bring himself to say he'd hated even one second of it. For years, Ron had always been there for him, but now Harry was starting to think something had changed. He supposed it began with the smile, that big goofy grin that only Ron could pull off, the one that sent the bespectacled boy's heart aflutter.

Harry was shaken from his musings by a bright flash and a loud peal of thunder. A frightened yelp accompanied the sound and the black-haired boy felt a thump as something heavy landed on his bed.

"…Harry? You awake, mate?" He smirked, trust Ron to be afraid of a thunderstorm.

"Yeah, I'm awake." The boys lay side by side in tense silence, neither sure how to progress from here. They stayed there for what felt like hours, but could only have been a few seconds. Another deafening, rolling crack broke the silence and Ron jerked fearfully. Right now, Harry had the strangest urge to comfort his friend, to wrap his arms around him and promise to protect him from his fears, but he held back not knowing how Ron would react.

His decision was soon made for him as, at another crack of thunder, his friend pulled him into an awkward embrace, as though he was a stuffed bear. In the next moment Ron seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly retracted his arms.

"Sorry, Harry." Ron looked down but the green-eyed male could tell he was blushing by his red ears.

"No, it's fine. Here," He didn't know what came over him, but the next thing he knew, Ron was in his arms, flushing like a neon sign. Harry knew what he was doing was wrong, that he shouldn't be enjoying the contact as much as he did, that Ron probably thought he was out of his mind, but he honestly could not bring himself to care. He felt Ron relax in his arms and he looked down at his confusing best mate.

"…Harry, what would you say if I said I like someone?" Now that was an unexpected question.

"Why? Do you?" Ron squirmed and mumbled out a yes. "Hmm, then I guess I'd say okay. It's really none of my concern." Harry felt his heart clench for some unknown reason as he said these words.

"But-…um…what- what if I said the person I happen to like is a guy?" Harry was confused now. Why was Ron asking him all this?

"I'd say okay, but I'd also say you should tell him." Ron didn't answer, only looked over at his shorter friend's arms wrapped comfortingly around him. His small chest was pressed up against Ron's own and he could feel the other boy's suddenly shallow breaths. He felt at home here and didn't want to lose this, but his friend ought to know.

"Harry…I like you." The room was silent, but for the ongoing storm. Ron waited tensely for the inevitable rejection. He just hoped the floor wouldn't hurt too much when Harry shoved him away and off the bed.

"…Wait, what?" That wasn't what either of them expected. Harry couldn't even begin to describe how he was feeling right now, but if he had to pick a word it would be light. He felt light and happy and he'd just figured out why he'd been feeling strange for the past few months. "Ron, that's…wonderful!" Now it was Ron's turn to question his friend's sanity. He glanced up at his love's expression and saw only joy and love and acceptance. He leaned down, took Harry's face in his hands and swiftly claimed the shorter man's lips in a heated embrace. That night, both boys fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

The next morning, Harry and Ron walked down to breakfast hand in hand. Only Hermione noticed and offered the new couple a smile, a despairing head shake and a muttered "boys…"

**DN- Oh! Look Frenchie, it's a big threatening button!**

**F- So it is…**

**DN- Can I hit it? *DN gets smacked once again***

**F- No, you idiot! That's for your readers!**

**DN- Could you stop _beating_ me with _kitchen utensils_****_!_ Read and Review, you guys!**


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